


Not Enough Spoons

by EboniObsydian



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Chronic Illness, College AU, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Homework, Keith (Voltron) Has ADHD, Keith is a good boyfriend, Partial Nudity, Pidge is chronically ill, Pidge just wants to be normal again, Pidge swears occasionly, Spoon Theory, bubble baths, doctors don't know shit, i'm surprised that's a tag, modern day AU, undiagnosed chronic illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 02:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17499848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EboniObsydian/pseuds/EboniObsydian
Summary: Pidge suffers from a chronic illness and is experiencing a bad flare day which means that she has very little energy (spoons) to put towards the stuff she needs to get done. Keith invites himself over to help because that's what he thinks a good boyfriend is supposed to do. While she appreciates the gesture at first, he goes a bit too far.





	Not Enough Spoons

**Author's Note:**

> I dedicate this to any and all readers out there with chronic illnesses of whatever sort, especially those who have not been diagnosed yet, who have been told that they are making their symptoms up, that they are faking it, that they are attention seekers, and have been abandoned by friends and family because of their illnesses. Whether you have been sick for just a few months or years, or you have been sick for so long you forgot what it's like to be 'normal', whether you have or have not been disabled by it, you are not alone.
> 
> And if you are a caretaker for someone who is chronically ill, or even a friend or relative, this fic is for you too.

Numbness woke her for the umpteenth time since she had crawled into bed earlier than usual last night, bone-weary and eyes and brain ladened thick with fatigue. She kept no clock in her bedroom, the constant display an annoying and depressing reminder of how long she would still be awake, or a glaring ticker at how often she would wake up in the middle of the night on bad days.

This time though, peeking from above the blackout curtains covering the single window to the right of her bed, the morning light banished the frustration that accompanied insomnia whenever it decided to torment her, which was a lot. A different kind of frustration lingered though much to her disappointment.

Flinging her arm to her left she fumbled to find her phone on the nightstand, bumped the small reading lamp resting there with her fingers before her fingertips found the edge of the device. Grasping it, she quickly became aware of how heavy her limbs felt, especially her right arm which was still draped across her bed and lingering on the nightstand. Not moving much, just enough to get as comfortable as possible for the time being, she rotated her wrist so that the phone’s screen was facing her and turned it on, the lock screen’s brilliance causing her to squint in pain as the light struck her unprepared eyes. Even on the dimmest setting, it was too much.

 _Serves me right,_ she thought to herself.

The time reads ten minutes before her alarm would have activated. Letting her hand go limp so the phone’s screen thumped against the surface of the nightstand, she buried her face in her pillow and groaned. _Not again…_ she whined.

Her sour mood was not being helped by how bone-deep exhausted she still felt. Her limbs were too heavy and she felt like the beginning of the flu was hitting her to add to her misery.

 _Lovely_.

Her health had declined even further which meant she had even less ‘spoons’ to get things done. Already a handful of her chores were piling up because they weren’t of a high enough priority.

With way too much effort that should have been required, she pushed herself upright in bed, pausing a moment before flinging the three blankets back and moving her legs to hang off the side, pausing again for a moment before pushing herself to her feet to get her day started, the hems of her mint green silky pajamas tugged down by gravity. The stiff carpet under her feet was unpleasant but the cold bite of the bathroom floor sent stabbing waves of pain through the soles and up her aching calves; she’d forgotten her slippers _**again**_. Even though they were _right there_ next to the nightstand.

Taking care of her bladder’s demands, she closed the toilet seat before washing up and getting her toothbrush set up, sitting down to brush her teeth. _Bless the invention of the electric toothbrush_ , she thought. Her arm was weakening and her energy waning from just the repetitive motion, simple as it was. _There goes one spoon._

After the task was finished, she grabbed her slippers and wandered slowly through the main room into her small kitchenette, stomach protesting even just the thought of food. Setting her phone on the counter and opening the fridge, she noticed again just how low her supply of food was getting, especially the fresh foods. Fortunately, she had enough for a berry smoothie. Moving slowly and nearly dropping her half-empty jug of juice, she gathered her supplies before taking a seat on a bar stool she had put in the kitchenette to help conserve her energy. Sitting down felt much better than standing while prepping food.

She sat while the blender did its thing and left the blender pitcher half full of water in the sink to wash out later. Not the best treatment of her appliance but she needed to elevate her legs as soon as possible as they were really starting to ache. Smoothie in hand, she got comfortable on her couch, throwing a thick fleece blanket over herself before catching up on social media with her phone, taking small sips so as to not aggravate her pissy stomach to the point of vomiting. _There goes another spoon._

A screen popped up, interrupting her scrolling, to remind her of the day’s schedule as well as upcoming events.

Two classes today; she knew that. Praise the creation of online courses.

Lunch with Keith tomorrow.

Fuck.

She would have to reschedule _**again**_ because of how bad her health was at present.

Life just wasn’t fair. Not to her and definitely not to her boyfriend. The lunch date was in celebration of their one-year anniversary since becoming a couple and that anniversary was almost two months ago. Her poor health as of late just would not let her have a date and it sucked on a level that most people didn’t… couldn’t understand.

But, Keith did, to a small degree, and that was one more thing on his long list that made him so special, so unique. She wondered every time he came to her mind just what did she do to deserve him and what was it about herself that made him stay?

She dismissed the reminders and was just about to continue catching up when her phone beeped and a text notification appeared.

It was from Keith.

 **8:00 a.m.** [Hey Pidge. You awake?]

Clumsily, she typed back with one hand, **8:01 a.m.** [By what definition?]

He didn’t answer. **8:02 a.m.** [You went to bed earlier than usual.]

 **8:03 a.m.** [Are you okay?]

She was so tempted to lie to him, to downplay how awful she was feeling so he wouldn’t overreact. But, he was a frustratingly perceptive one. So, sighing, she answered honestly.

 **8:05 a.m.** [Bad day.]

 **8:07 a.m.** [Bad day today too?]

 **8:07 a.m.** [Nailed it.]

 **8:08 a.m.** [Worse than yesterday?]

 **8:08 a.m.** [2 4 2.]

 **8:11 a.m.** [Need to reschedule lunch?]

 **8:13 a.m.** [I’m sorry.]

 **8:13 a.m.** [Unfortunately, yes.]

Another pause, this one for several minutes. She had decided to take a deeper swig of her smoothie, immediately regretting it when she choked on it while reading his next text.

 **8:17 a.m.** [I’m coming over.]

That was out of the blue, although not completely out of character. However, Keith had his own life and responsibilities which really didn’t leave much room for time together outside the exchange of messages through the day, let alone spontaneous decisions to visit a sick girlfriend.

 **8:19 a.m.** [I’m not presentable.] she tried.

 **8:20 a.m.** [That never bothers me and you know it.]

 **8:20 a.m.** [Liar.]

 **8:21 a.m.** [Fine. It worries me, that’s it.]

 **8:22 a.m.** [Don’t you have work?] she tried again.

 **8:23 a.m.** [I’ll trade shifts with Lance. He owes me some favors anyway.]

Damn. 

**8:23 a.m.** [And classes?]

 **8:23 a.m.** [Canceled.]

Huh? 

**8:24 a.m.** [Because…?]

 **8:24 a.m.** [I said so.]

And there’s his impulsive decision making.

 **8:24 a.m.** [Keith!]

 **8:26 a.m.** [What?]

 **8:26 a.m.** [You’re more important.]

 **8:26 a.m.** [I’ll be fine missing a day of classes.]

 **8:27 a.m.** [Isn’t attendance mandatory?]

 **8:27 a.m.** [Family emergency, can’t be helped.]

 **8:27 a.m.** [Keith…]

 **8:28 a.m.** [Shiro will back me up.]

 **8:28 a.m.** [You know he will. He cares about you too.]

She sighed, defeated; his mind was set and there was no changing it.

 **8:29 a.m.** [Fine. It’s not like I can stop you.]

He sent an emoji of a motorbike, one of the very few he used.

 **8:30 a.m.** [Be there in 20.]

Pinning her glass between her legs, she furiously texted back with both thumbs,

 **8:31 a.m.** [OBEY THE SPEED LIMIT!!!]

She hoped that he would see the text before he left his apartment.

 **8:32 a.m.** [Why? They’re only recommendations.]

She blew a raspberry.

 **8:33 a.m.** [Don’t blame me if you get pulled over.]

 **8:33 a.m.** [Then I’ll make sure I don’t.]

Shaking her head, she sipped her smoothing before replying.

 **8:34 a.m.** [Be safe at least.]

 **8:35 a.m.** [Always.]

“Not,” she said to no one.

She focused on finishing her smoothie before it got too warm, realizing that a familiar pinching sensation combined with a dull tightness was building in her legs, a feeling that was only alleviated by movement or deep pressure massage. Most of the time it was a massage that did away with this particular annoyance, however, there were also times when she was so low on energy that she would resort to practically beating her legs with closed fists to stop the sensation; it wasn’t excruciating, but it was painful if left to fester too long. Most of the time she did that, it subdued the feeling just enough so she could rest. Keith saw her do it once and flipped, grabbing her hand before she could even begin to get some relief. When she tried to explain why, it was clear he didn’t understand, but he did try to help by getting her a better electric massager.

Bless him.

She had just finished her smoothie and had nearly caught up on her social media accounts when she heard Keith’s knock on the door. “Pidge, I’m letting myself in.”

“You’re safe,” she answered. Not that she would come out of her bedroom in any state of undress for any reason.

He tried to open the door as she moved to get up, finding it locked and reminding her that yeah, she forgot about that. He had a key though and just as she got to her feet he had the door open and was scanning the dim room for her. “There you are,” he smiled after a minute, quick to shut the door when he realized that the blackout curtains were closed and only the lamps were on on their lowest setting, shining a soft light on the light brown walls in the main room. A sad expression morphed his smile. “How long?”

“This would be the third day with the lamps,” she sighed, meeting him halfway for a light hug and a kiss on the cheek, quietly feeling embarrassed about how slow she was moving and how badly she was in need of a shower. He wasn’t wearing his typical red jacket on black shirt today, she noticed. It was red shirt and camo jacket day. Why did he have Shiro’s jacket?

He reciprocated the light hug, reaching behind her neck to card through her hair. Normally she enjoyed the feeling. Not today though, and he noticed immediately when her whole body jerked in his hold. Quickly he withdrew his hand to steady her. “I’m sorry.”

She leaned into him, the shock lingering and exhausting her. She whispered, “Not your fault,” into his chest where her head had come to rest. “I didn’t even know so I couldn’t warn you.”

“Let’s sit down, yeah?”

“Sounds great,” she sighed wearily.

As quickly as he could, but not rushing her, he got her back to the couch and helped her get comfortable propped up against a couple of pillows and a blanket over her legs again. He took her empty glass from her, which she had originally intended to put back in the kitchen herself, and placed her phone on the coffee table so she wasn’t sitting on it. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

All she could manage was a heavy hum. _And another spoon is gone._ When he retreated to the kitchen, the uncomfortable not pain but somehow painful sensation came back now that she wasn’t standing. Sighing with irritation she wiggled her legs underneath the blanket; it helped and she hoped that the episode would be short-lived. Noises from the kitchenette indicated Keith was cleaning up the dishes in the sink and on the counter. She was simultaneously thankful that he was distracted so as to not see her squirming yet ashamed that she wasn’t able to clean up after herself before he arrived.

“Did you eat?” she called.

“Yeah,” he called back.

She was still wiggling when he returned with a tall bottle of water from her fridge; the movement didn’t go unnoticed. He quietly handed her the bottle and disappeared into her bedroom, returning with her electric percussion massager, an unspoken request for permission on his lips and in his eyes.

She nodded, defeated by her exhaustion more than shame. Guilt, however, was the close runner up. Embarrassment wasn’t something that showed its ugly face too much anymore when it was just Keith around.

The device was plugged into the wall adjacent to the couch via extension cord before he knelt in front of it, first helping her turn to face forward and sit somewhat proper. She still fidgeted. Switching the machine on, he started with her right leg, working from her high thigh down to her ankle at a slow, even pace.

It was blissful to have the weird pain silenced by the rhythmic pounding of the massager, at least in one leg. Her left one complained and all she could do was keep wiggling it.

After five minutes he switched to her whining left leg, leaving her right with a kind of low burning sensation, one that wasn’t too unpleasant and most definitely more preferable. Another five minutes and he returned to her right leg for a second round, the loud rumble of the device still minute enough that his voice could be heard. “What have you got to do today that is high priority?”

“Class. I have two today. And then homework which is due tomorrow by midnight.”

He nodded. “Chores?”

She immediately knew what he was doing. But, if she didn’t come forward, he would either find out on his own or make himself busy. Part of that habit wasn’t his fault though, that much she understood. She had known that from way back when they were becoming friends in high school. He had been defensive when she asked him about it and then ashamed, even with her reassuring him that it wasn’t a big deal. It took a few months for him to realize that she wasn’t bothered by his idiosyncrasies at all, just curious. “I really need groceries,” she answered, having to pause a moment to allow her brain to work through all the tasks that were being shoved onto the backburner. “And clean clothes.”

He nodded, moving back to her left leg again. “And?”

“Well, you were in the kitchen.”

“I was. And it’s mostly clean now. What about Bae-Bae?”

Ah shit! She’d forgotten about him. “Um, his bowl likely needs to be cleaned. I don’t think I fed him yesterday either.”

“He’s a fish, he’ll survive one day without food.”

“Isn’t that animal abuse though? Or neglect?”

“Neglect would be leaving him in filthy water, which you haven’t done. Some hobbyists don’t feed their fish every day either, choosing to do so every two or three days instead. Bae-Bae is fine.” He turned the massager off, set it on the coffee table in front of the couch and then hefted himself up to sit next to her, pressing his leg gently against hers, a silent invite. She leaned against him, sighing. “This sucks.”

“I know.” Hesitating for a minute, he wrapped his arm behind her and lightly laid his hand on her shoulder. “When is class?”

“At ten.” It was just barely after nine.

“Rest. I’ll clean Bae-Bae’s bowl.”

“Okay.” She pulled away and flopped over onto the pillows, pulling her now quiet legs up so Keith could tuck her in. She closed her eyes and listened to him putter around her small, two-bedroom apartment, putting the massager back and then going to the kitchen to tend to her betta. They were oddly soothing sounds and she found it easy to doze, her awareness fading in and out.

The buzzing of her phone accompanied by the sing song of a digital bell jolted her awake ten minutes before her first online class was about to start. She dragged her heavy body to the adjacent wall where her computer desk was set up and fell heavily into the chair, rubbing the sleep and residual fatigue from her eyes. Her brain felt like it was lagging severely, running on two gigs of RAM when it could typically run on eight on good days.

“I hope I can pay attention enough to get the gist of the lecture,” she mumbled to herself while yawning. Popping her knuckles, she prepped her computer for class, her fingers slightly cold but her gloves weren’t in sight.

Blast.

At least she had the foresight to bring her blanket with her to keep her legs warm.

“Pidge-” Keith began, standing a few paces on her side, “-are you cool while I go get you some groceries?”

She turned her head just until she could see him from the corner of her eye and nodded. “I don’t expect to move from this spot for the next hour and a half.”

“Okay. I’ll try to get back before then. Call me if you need me to get you something out of the usual.”

“Will do. And I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“You doing my chores and running my errands.”

“Pidge, there is nothing to be sorry for. I’m doing this because I want to.”

“Thank you,” she whispered shyly. Even after all this time, accepting the help that her boyfriend offered was hard. Accepting help from friends was even harder, and don’t even get her started on the occasional stranger who happened to see her struggle on days she had to leave her apartment despite feeling crappy and low on spoons.

“You’re welcome, always. See you later. He stepped close enough to lean over and give her a light peck on the head, taking note of her greasy hair; he’ll talk to her about that detail later.

Unfortunately, he got back, arms laden with bags of groceries, after Pidge’s class had ended. He found her asleep on the couch, blanket grasped in her fist tucked under her chin, slightly curled up in a ball. As quietly as he could, he set the bags on the kitchen counter and approached her, lightly brushing her hair out of her face enough to see dark bags under her eyes. Just how long was she dealing with this flare? He hated it when she suffered alone but also understood why.

Before she had fallen ill she was a highly independent lady, full of energy and vigor and spontaneity that had drawn him to her so long ago. They became fast friends in high school and then a couple after graduating, she a year behind him. They attended two semesters of college before she came down with what they both figured was the flu that had hit the campus. When she didn’t get better, he took her to the hospital. They admitted her for pneumonia but had no answers as to why she never fully recovered, and even today no one has any answers.

She had told him several times that she would understand if he left her for someone who wasn’t sick; no one wanted a broken girlfriend after all.

But he loved her deeper than that. He may not completely understand, but he was giving his all to help her.

She didn’t leave him when he told her about his ADHD, even when he tried so hard to push her away, so he wasn’t going to leave her over something she had not control over.

She apparently wasn’t in a deep sleep, or maybe she was just dozing, because she stirred and opened her tired, weary eyes. “Keith?”

“Yeah. Did I wake you?”

“No, I wasn’t asleep. I can’t get comfortable.”

“Feel like eating something? Sounds to me like you need some painkillers.”

She took several moments to assess herself. “Nothing heavy.”

“How about soup and crackers?”

“Okay.” She moved to sit up but he stopped her with both of his hands on her shoulders. “I got it. It’s obvious class wiped you out. Rest, I’ve got to put groceries away first anyway.”

She’d lost two spoons with class, unfortunately. “I don’t want to leave everything for you to do,” she complained with a whine in her tone.

“You’re not. Please, for me, stay here and rest.”

“Fine,” she pouted. He normally thought her pouts were adorable. However, when she was sick like this, it tore into his heart. When she settled back down and he tucked her in, he got busy.

Knowing from experience how bad Pidge’s health got, he knew it would be several days before she would be back on her feet as usual. Since she fell ill she had yet to recover to herself from before, to herself 100%. Some days it seemed like she was on the brink, but those were usually followed by aftermaths like today. So, he bought her a lot of canned soup, something easy on her stomach and easy to prepare. Of course, he got fresh produce as well.

He heated two cans of chicken noodle, stuffed a small packet of saltines and a bottle of water under his arm before grabbing the filled bowls and returning to the main room where he smoothly set everything down on the coffee table, frowning when he saw the bottle he had brought out earlier was barely touched. “Food is ready.”

She sat up, pausing as a moment of vertigo hit. Once it passed she squashed the blanket into the couch and moved her legs to sit proper, patting the spot next to her. Keith handed her a bowl, spoon already in it, before claiming the second one as well as the open seat. She stirred hers, trying to muster up the desire to eat. She took small bites, eating agonizingly slow. Keith didn’t mind. As long as she ate half at least, he would be satisfied.

“You said you needed clean clothes. How long has your laundry been piling up?”

Letting her arm rest in her lap, spoon returned to the bowl, she sighed. “Two weeks, maybe three.”

“What have you been wearing in the meantime?”

“Pajamas for several days in a row.”

“So, the clothes you need cleaned are, let me guess, your underwear. Because you aren’t one to wear the same panties for days on end.”

She blushed and nodded ever so slightly, so much so that it would have been easily missed.

“When was the last time you showered?”

“The day of my last doctor’s appointment… six days ago I think.”

“Then I think you need to get one today, or a bath.”

She sighed, agreeing with him while simultaneously dreading the task because of how much energy and effort it took just to clean herself; a task of daily living most people took for granted. With the way she was feeling, that would take two, maybe even three spoons and she was surley into spoon debt for the day already and it was just barely half over.

“Eat,” he nudged her with his elbow.

She complied robotically.

This sucked.

She picked around the chicken, ate half the noodles and slurped most of the broth before saying she was done. Keith was satisfied and collected her bowl. “Want any crackers?”

“Not really.”

“Okay then. I’ll be back with some painkillers.” he left for the kitchen, disposing of the uneaten soup and getting painkillers from her medicine cabinet. While he was doing that, Pidge carefully grabbed her phone so she wouldn’t make herself dizzy and while sipping from her water bottle, brought up her email, specifically looking for notices about class or the group project she loathed doing.

Nothing but spam and old messages.

She was so hoping her next class was canceled much to her dismay.

While she moped, Keith handed her her pills which she quickly downed while mentally complaining. While she was distracted he rounded up her laundry. He thought he could get out the door without her noticing but she caught him with two mesh bags in his hands. Blushing hard, she retorted, “Hey! I can do my own laundry!”

“I’m not embarrassed about seeing panties and bras, Pidge.”

That was not the problem. She just had her period and although she had washed the murder scenes out of her victimized panties, they were still notably stained and in need of a thorough wash. She didn’t care if another girl saw but, her boyfriend?! That was something else entirely. Though she knew she shouldn’t be ashamed. Keith was the type of guy who was unphased by periods and blood and had on two separate occasions made an emergency supply run for her. However, old beliefs die hard.

She opened her mouth to protest more only for nothing to come out.

“I stripped your bed too. It was obvious that you haven’t changed the sheets in a while.”

 _Over a month,_ she commented to herself, sulking. Why was he insisting on doing all of her overdue chores for her?

As he was about to leave she started talking, “At least promise me you’ll go get your homework after you’re done being my house maid.”

He laughed goodnaturedly. “I’ll stop at the laundry. And I promise.”

“Remember to use the delicate cycle and cold water!” she said unnecessarily.

“Noted,” he smiled and was gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

She sank into the couch, continuing to sulk.

This still sucked.

When he returned a bit over an hour later she was on her computer again in the middle of her second class, fatigued to the point she had her orange glasses on to block the blue light from her screen. After checking on her, he went into her bedroom and made her bed with the clean sheets, leaving her folded clothes and the fine mesh bag of intimates on it for her to put away as she pleased; that was one system of hers that he didn’t know and she refused to tell him. Checking on her again with a look, he darted back out to fetch his homework and a change of clothes; he would be staying the night on her couch. She would fight him on it and complain of course, but he would win in the end.

When he got back with his messenger back over his shoulder he found her sitting on the floor in front of her coffee table, back against the couch, staring at nothing, her color very pale. He had been gone for less than and hour and in that time she had declined that bad? Just what did she get herself into?

Coming around the couch, he dropped his bag next to it, the thud startling her. With unfocused eyes on him, she said quietly, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Pidge, what did you do after your class ended?”

“Put away my clothes and got this-” she indicated the books and spiral notebooks on the table, “-out to get started on homework.”

Keith gave her a stern and yet simultaneously worried look. “You should have taken a break,” he replied with a heavy tone. “Just what are you trying to accomplish?”

Eyes still cloudy, she got angry. “Trying to get my fucking homework done so I can keep my grades up high enough to pass my classes!”

Keith had the decency to at least look ashamed as he sat on the couch next to her, putting his hand gently on her shoulder. She violently shrugged it off. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need or want your pity,” she snapped as he hunched over, elbows on his thighs. She sighed a few moments later. “I’m not… I’m not mad at you. Not really. I know you’re just trying to help. I’m mad at the hand I’ve been dealt for the past week. It fucking sucks.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. No one does.”

“You’re right, I don’t. At least, not as intimately as you do, Pidge. But, I’m not blind either. I can see what -whatever this is- is doing to you. The doctors are wrong, all of them. It’s not psychosomatic; it’s not something you are faking. This… thing is very real.”

She leaned into him, sniffing, her deep exhaustion breaking her control over her emotions. “I just want to go back… back to when I wasn’t so sick.” She paused to sniff. “Sometimes, I don’t remember what it was like, how it felt to be normal, and it scares me. It makes all of this even worse.” Another sniff. “I’m losing my identity, Keith. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

He didn’t have an answer, so he slid off the couch to sit next to her and with an arm behind her, tugged her gently, a silent invitation.

She went willingly, closing her eyes and hiding her face in his chest, sniffing and quivering slightly in attempts to stifle her tears before she full out broke down crying. He held her close and breathed evenly, hoping his calm would transfer to her enough for her to compose herself.

When she did calm, he asked quietly, “Want me to run you a bath?”

She yawned, questioning not him but herself and whether or not she would be safe. “With bubbles?” she finally asked, a sheepish, embarrassed grin just barely on her lips but a flushing pink on her cheeks.

He kissed her head before answering, “Lots of bubbles.”

“Then, yes.”

“One condition; I want you on the couch resting while the tub fills. And you need to drink more water.”

She stuck her tongue out. “That’s two, but fine, dad.”

He helped her up, steadying her before turning to leave as she got comfy, making a point to sip from her half empty water bottle. He paused just inside the doorway to her bedroom to ask over his shoulder, “How hot do you want the water?”

“Warm but not quite hot.”

“Alright.” He smiled before disappearing.

She sighed heavily and closed her dry eyes, listening to the muffled sound of heavy running water.

She must have dozed off sitting up because she started awake from someone touching her shoulder. When she found Keith’s face, he was smiling gently at her. “Bath’s ready.”

She smiled back shyly, “Thanks.”

Her color had improved, he noticed. She was slow about getting up from the couch, cautious like she had been all day unbeknownst to him, but she easily made her way to her bathroom, pausing just after she stood to peck a kiss on his cheek. She shut the bathroom door, sitting on the closet toilet to undress, leaving the clothes on the floor. The minor exertion warranted another pause to rest before she carefully stepped into the warm water, pushing the thick foam away. The non-skid mat helped her keep steady as she got situated, grabbing her bath pillow and putting it behind her head before leaning back and relaxing, the water coming up to just under her deltoids.

In the main room, Keith started his homework, keeping an ear open for any signs of distress from Pidge. His phone rang from his back pocket not five minutes after he had settled on the couch with a textbook in his lap and a notebook next to him.

It was Hunk.

“Hey Hunk. Sorry I wasn’t in class.”

…

“Family emergency.”

…

“Not Shiro. Pidge.”

…

“I’m not making excuses just to skip. I’m not that- don’t even joke like that Hunk. It’s not funny.”

…

“No, it’s not a cold or infection. It’s a bad flare up.”

…

“She’s in the tub right now.”

…

“No, she’s not bedridden but she should definitely be on bed rest in my opinion.”

…

“Probably a seven or eight.”

…

“No, not much of an appetite.”

…

“Is that Lance I just heard?”

…

He laughed lightly. “Tell him I heard that and that he’s such a drama queen. Also, tell him I’m calling in one of those favors he owes me and that I need him to take my shift this evening.”

…

“Thanks.”

…

“No, I don’t think she’s up for company.”

…

“Maybe. I’ll ask her when she’s out and text you if she says no.”

…

“She probably won’t eat them right away, or even in the next few days so you might want to hold off on them.”

…

“She seems to want soups. So you could cook some up for her instead of cookies.”

…

“Alright, alright. I didn’t say not to make them, just put them on hold for when she’s feeling better.”

…

“Again, not funny.”

…

“What did Lance shout?”

…

“What about class?”

…

“Oh. Email me a copy?”

…

“Thanks.”

…

“Studying.”

…

“School work? What else would I be studying?”

…

“What about Lance?”

…

“Hunk, put him on the phone.”

…

“What?” Keith’s voice was slightly annoyed. Lance immediately began to word vomit into his ear.

“Whoa whoa whoa. I am stopping you right there. Look, I know you mean well but stop. She has had enough of people giving her suggestions thinking that it will help. I’m telling you she’s tried nearly all of them, the popular ones and even some not-so-well-known ones. And many of them made her worse. Doctor advice included.”

…

“No, I’m not putting words in her mouth. She’s told me several times herself and I’ve seen the bad side effects and consequences. Ask Shiro, she’s told him too.”

…

“I know.”

...

“Keep being her friend. Keep an open mind, be willing to listen, to adapt, and don’t abandon her over something she can’t control. Don’t pretend to understand if you don’t because that is insulting to her. And especially don’t judge her.”

…

“No, I didn’t think you would but you’re the one who asked for specifics.”

…

“Maybe Saturday or Sunday.”

…

“I doubt it.”

…

“I’ll pass it along.”

…

“Welcome back, Hunk.”

…

“Well, we ate chicken noodle for lunch and she mostly ate the noodles and drank the broth.”

…

“Sound’s good. I’ll let her know you’re bringing dinner over.”

…

“Bye.”

He was having trouble focusing on creating an outline for the next part of a bigger project that was due at the end of the semester, a task he had spent fifteen minutes on with only a line on his notebook page to show for it, when Pidge’s voice grabbed his fickle attention. “Keith?” Her tone was shy and hesitant. “Could you- could you come help me?”

He automatically thought the worst and shoved his homework aside, jumping to his feet and pausing just as his hand was gripped around the bathroom doorknob. “Are you sure I can come in?”

“Yes, I’m covered.”

He slowly opened the door, peeking in just enough to be sure, fully prepared to avert his gaze at any second.

She was sitting up in the tub which was now half empty, washcloth clutched to her front and her bath pillow covering her nether regions, not that he could see from all the way across the tiny space. Mentally releasing a breath, he entered, shutting the door behind him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Um-” she was flushing, “Would you… wash my hair for me?”

He smiled softly. “Dead arms?”

She just nodded.

“No problem.” He took off his jacket and gloves, leaving them on the counter before reaching for the shower wand and aiming it away from her while the warm water returned. Gently, he guided her head back to wet her hair, moving as quick as possible. Shutting off the water with a turn of the showerhead, she reached for the wand offering to hold it while he worked, one arm securing the washcloth over her bust. He handed it over and grabbed the shampoo and conditioner.

Squirting a small amount of the shampoo into his palm, he rubbed the stuff between his hands before going at her hair, taking the opportunity to massage her head while he lathered her short locks, feeling her relax into it; he was glad she wasn’t reacting in pain like earlier. Rinsing quickly, taking care not to get soap in her eyes, he continued the massage while working in the conditioner. After five minutes, he rinsed her hair again, finishing up by returning the shower wand to its hook and moving the bottles out of her way. He got her towel and placed it on the closed toilet within her reach. “You okay to get out on your own?”

She hummed an affirmation. He quickly gathered his stuff and left, commenting, “I’ll see you in the main room in a bit then.”

She unstopped the drain after he left, letting the tub empty completely before climbing out, sitting on the edge of the tub to dry off except her hair. She squeezed the water out of it before wrapping herself in the towel and entering her bedroom.

Keith had shut the door in his wake.

She sat on her bed to rest for a few minutes before getting dressed, putting on some socks and stuffing her cold feet in the slippers she left waiting by her nightstand. Just the effort of getting out and drying off had taken two spoons, she guessed, maybe three.

Keith was back on the couch, jacket draped over the back of it and gloves back on, waving a pen between his fingers when she entered the room, towel in her hand. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

Looking up, he shoved his homework aside for the second time and motioned for her to sit, hand out waiting for the towel.

She quickly obliged.

Tenderly taking her hair into the folds of the towel, he asked, “Feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Fuzzy pajamas, huh.” It wasn’t a question.

She smacked his arm. “Shush.”

He just chuckled.

When he finished and her hair wasn’t in danger of soaking everything around it, he left momentarily to hang the towel up in the bathroom, noticing the abandoned washcloth in the tub and wringing it out before hanging it up too, at which point he noticed her clothes and so gathered them up to drop into her hamper. He returned to find her still on the couch, legs folded and a textbook in her lap, notebook on the opposite side of his homework pile. Shrugging, he grabbed his stuff and got situated opposite her on the floor to work on the coffee table. Before he even attempted to get back to it though he relayed, “Hunk is coming over with dinner. He promised he wouldn’t stay long so I told him it was okay.” He peered up at her for a response.

Not looking up from her work she answered, “It’s okay.”

“He wanted to bring peanut butter cookies but I advised him to wait until you were feeling better.”

“Good call.”

Reporting done, he went back to his own work, swinging the pen between his fingers again. Soon he was thumping it against his open textbook. That was quickly followed by his leg bouncing underneath the table and a frustrated, quiet series of grumbled nonsense words.

“There’s Baja in the fridge,” Pidge said quietly, turning a page in her own book.

He didn’t respond for a good six minutes. Pidge wasn’t sure what he was trying to prove by just sitting there and fuming at his homework before resigning to getting up to raid the fridge. The only reason she kept Baja was for him.

When he got back he dropped heavily onto the floor, thumping a slightly more than half-empty single liter bottle of soda on the table a safe distance away from his papers, cap screwed on securely.

She wasn’t paying that much attention but he eventually was able to focus on his studying after that, indicated by his scribbling notes in his notebook and turning pages instead of glaring at them. _See_ , she thought to him, _you need help sometimes too._

Both of them were so engrossed in their work that they didn’t hear the first time someone knocked on the door. The second time was followed by a tentative, “Hello? Anyone home?”

Keith was the one to get to his feet first. “Sorry, Hunk. I’m coming.” He opened the door to the sight of a big guy in a typical yellow shirt that seemed much to tight, cargo pants, orange headband, and his hands full with a covered kitchen soup pot. Keith stepped back to let the gentle giant in. When Hunk noticed the low light, he equally kept his voice low. “Hi, Pidge.”

“Hi.” She had decided to remain on the couch. Hunk made his way to her kitchen and put the pot on the small stove. “I made you creamy potato soup. Coconut milk substitute.”

“That was kind of you.”

He tapped his fingers together. “Can I- can I give you a hug?”

She nodded and waved him over. He eased onto the couch and swallowed her tiny body with his arms, giving her a firm hug. “Too bad osmosis doesn’t work with energy transfers from body to body. I have extra that I would give you in a heartbeat.”

“The sentiment does help, Hunk. Thank you for dinner. I’ll pay you back somehow.”

Breaking way, he shook his head. “I got a hug out of you so payment has been received in full.”

She sputtered a laugh. “Alright, fine.”

“Okay, delivery made, I’m outta here,” he said, swiping Keith up into a bear hug that crushed the air out of the smaller man’s lungs before ducking out before said squashed man could give any sort of reply.

She giggled loudly from her spot on the couch. Keith just furrowed his brow and plopped back in his spot on the floor. “I wonder what that was for.”

“Could very easily be absolutely no reason at all because it’s Hunk,” she answered with a small grin.

“You hungry now?”

“Later. I’m almost done with this assignment.”

“That the one due tomorrow?”

“Yup.”

Keith grabbed his Baja and noticed that Pidge’s two water bottles were still on the table, one untouched and one only three-quarters empty. “Pidge, how much water have you drank today?”

“Um…”

He pointed to the bottles with his bottle. “These should have been emptied by now.” His expression was stern but worried.

“I just haven’t felt thirsty so drinking water hasn’t been on my mind.”

“Let me see your hand,” he nearly demanded, putting his bottle down and reaching over the table. When she reached over with her right, he took her hand in his left and lightly pinched the top of it with his other fingers, watching intently how the skin and color returned to match the surrounding area.

It was slower than it was supposed to be. “You’re dehydrated.”

“That explains a few things…” she mumbled, taking her hand back.

He got up and with a gruff “I’ll be back in a few,” hurried out the door.

She sighed and tried to focus on her work. It wasn’t her fault that she dehydrated easily. And she knew he wasn’t really mad at her, just frustrated same as her. However, his gruff tone did upset her at times making her feel like she messed up.

He came back with two bottles of Gatorade she knew came from the convenience store just down the street because all they had was the grape flavor. He immediately headed for the kitchen and she could hear the ice machine going. She had just finished her assignment when a glass of the vile stuff with ice in it was put in her field of vision. “Drink.”

Making a face, she knew better than to complain. This was important and if she didn’t rehydrate she was going to end up in the hospital with an IV in her vein. Grape flavored Gatorade was the lesser of the two evils as well as less expensive. Taking the cup, she glared at it before taking a breath and chugging half the glass down, coming up with a gasped “BLECK!”, shoving the glass back at him which he readily took and sat on the coffee table. “Drink the rest of it in ten minutes.”

“Yeah yeah.” Closing the textbook, she shoved it off her lap and leaned back into the couch, a mild headache coming on from the cold liquid. She decided to just stay there and ride the headache out. All too soon though, Keith was tapping on the glass table to get her attention. Grumbling, she reached forward and downed the rest of the vile stuff, setting the empty glass back down with a little more force than necessary to voice her displeasure to the known universe, especially since the near brain-freeze was back. But, cold Gatorade was marginally better than warm Gatorade.

Moving her schoolwork to the end of the couch, she flopped over on the opposite side to rest a bit, enjoying watching Keith study since he tended to make the occasional odd expression, unconsciously of course. She told him about it once, back in high school, and he didn’t believe her. Several times she’s thought about recording him for proof or even blackmail but could never follow through with it for some reason.

His stomach making a loud groan reminded her about the dinner Hunk had brought over. “Let me get the food this time,” she insisted while sitting up.

He looked up at her for a moment before relenting. “Let’s eat at the bar counter then. I took over your coffee table with my homework.”

“Deal. I’ll go heat it back up. I have a stool in there for a reason.”

Still moving slowly, she collected her glass and headed to the kitchen, dumping the ice out and putting the glass in the dishwasher. Taking the lid off the soup pot, she peeked inside. Despite how her stomach had been all day, it wasn’t protesting the thought of being filled with what lay before her eyes. Covering it back up, she flicked the stove on, grabbed a serving spoon and took up a seat on her stool. Only after it was heated did she get bowls and spoons, calling to Keith as she did so.

She had two mahogany bar chairs underneath the grey fake granite counter. Keith sat in one and she claimed the other, scooting close to him to almost be in his personal space. He leaned over and surprised her with a peck on her forehead, a wide open target courtesy of her damp hair. “Hey!”

He only grinned and took refuge behind a mouthful of soup, finding it still a bit too hot and trying his best not to spit it back out into the bowl.

She sort of enjoyed watching him suffer. Only a little. Taking pity on him, she got up and got him a glass of cold water which he hurriedly grabbed from her hand and drank from before she had had the chance to set it down. “Ow,” he breathed.

“Your own damn fault.” She had no sympathy. Instead, she leaned over and pecked his cheek before sitting back down and focusing on her own bowl.

They ate in amicable quiet for several minutes before Keith took a breath to say something only to be interrupted. “Pidge, I-”

“I know what you’re going to say. You’re staying the night.” She stirred her soup. “You almost always do on my really bad days. And no matter how many times I fight you on it, you refuse to yield.” Sighing and steeling herself for some tough love, she turned in her seat and demanded Keith’s gaze. “Keith, I want you to listen to me, really listen. I can count on one hand the number of days you have asked me if I needed or wanted help since this started. I also understand why you do what you are constantly doing. But, I’m not an invalid, I don’t need hospice care.

I adore your protectiveness and readiness to help, I really do. And I’m not saying I don’t appreciate it. However, I want to be heard. I want you to ask me if I need help instead of just assuming. I want you to ask if you can come help me with my chores and errands instead of just bulldozing ahead and doing it for me. Keith, you used to treat me like an equal. I want you to go back to treating me like a real person, not something frail. I don’t need you to protect me from pain and fatigue because you’ll run yourself into the ground trying and I can tell you that it will happen regardless.”

Keith swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. Feeling like he totally messed up, he quietly asked, “So… you don’t-”

“I don’t want you to stay-” she interrupted again, “-out of some sort of duty or obligation. However,” she let that word hang for a bit. “You _**can**_ stay, because I want you to.”

He looked away, stirring his half eaten bowl of soup. Daring a look from the corner of his eye, he questioned, “So, you’re not mad?”

Still looking at him, she made sure that her expression was soft and light. “Mad? No. Irritated, yes. But, I’m not angry with you, so no more kicked puppy faces, okay?”

“I don’t have a face like that,” he huffed, glaring at his soup.

She hugged him from the side, “If you say so.” He was about to spoon more soup into his mouth when she grabbed his hand and ate it instead. As he spluttered, she offered him a spoon out of her own bowl. He stared cross-eyed at it before accepting. She leaned her head onto his shoulder and he reciprocated by leaning so his chin was resting on her crown. “I’ll try to remember to be a more considerate boyfriend,” he promised.

“That is all I ask. But, I will remind you if it looks like you need it.”

“Noted.”

The rest of dinner consisted of feeding each other from their own bowls. Pidge insisted vehemently enough that it was nearly a demand that Keith let her clean up. So he did. She also got herself more Gatorade before returning to her spot on the couch in the main room. Instead of downing it in two parts though, she alternated between it and the second bottle of water that Keith had brought her earlier that day.

She was only able to concentrate on her next assignment for a little over five minutes before a heavy cloud of fatigue fell over her, the brain fog too thick to make sense of the letters on the pages of her book. _No more spoons_ , she thought. So she reluctantly closed everything up and put it on the floor next to the couch. Laying down on the pillows, she watched Keith through droopy eyes.

“Keith?” she asked much later.

“Yeah?” He didn’t look up.

“Are you doing anything important?”

He looked up at that question, brows furrowed. “Opposed to what?”

“Cuddling with me,” she smiled tiredly.

“Well, you already know that you’re important to me, but I know you feel that homework is important for keeping grades up. So, what’s your defense?”

“You are a walking space heater and I am cold. Also, you are permitted breaks every so often for the good of your health. Get. Up. Here.”

Keith stared at her, though she could see that his mind was elsewhere. “Give me fifteen minutes to finish working on what I’m doing before my mind decides to abandon it. Then we can cuddle until you inevitably fall asleep.”

“Deal.” Groggily, she grabbed at the blanket laying over the back of the couch where Keith had moved it and got as comfortable as she could.

She must have dozed off because she was abruptly aware of being picked up and maneuvered to be properly spooned on a cramped couch that wasn’t made for spooning. Her head found itself on Keith’s arm but with a pillow between. His other arm was around her waist and their legs intertwined slightly. His boots were still on though and she frowned slightly, but he had wrapped them both up in her blanket so all was forgiven. Especially when she started to feel the heat seeping through her pajamas and into her tired body. She wriggled a bit, sighing happily.

Keith chuckled behind her.

And she did inevitably fall asleep.

She roused who knows how long later only lucid enough barely break free to stumble to the bathroom, shut her bladder up, and then realize that she bumped into something both soft and hard at the same time as she stepped out. “Hi,” she slurred. A gloved hand on her back guided her to her bed. The other gloved hand pulled the blankets away for her to climb in.

She kicked off her slippers and with more effort than should be necessary because of her fatigue and half-asleep mind, made it into the bed, flopping heavily backwards onto her pillows. She was barely aware of being tucked in and a weight crawling into the bed behind her before spooning her again. She hummed, rolling onto her side to accommodate, feeling content and safe and was out again in just two minutes.

When he was sure she was asleep, Keith slowly scooted off the bed and returned to the main room. He tidied up before making himself comfortable on the small couch, comandering Pidge’s blanket for himself for the night and after remembering to fish his phone out of his back pocket to set on the coffee table, shut his eyes to drift off to sleep himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this fic on and off while writing chapters for "Why it sucks to be a snake in space." At first, I wasn't going to post it because it's essentially a vent fic. But, chronic illness is lonely and there aren't a lot of fics with it as a topic of interest.
> 
> Pidge's symptoms are common with a few chronic illnesses that I know of. I'm not going to identify which illness that I envisioned for her when I started writing this because I want all types of people who are chronically ill to connect with her.
> 
> If you don't know the "Spoon Theory", I suggest you look it up. I have interacted with all types of people who know this theory and use it to convey the impact of their illnesses to those who don't understand. There have even been a few 'norms' that I've interacted with who refer to this theory in their lives as well.
> 
> I would love to read your comments and if you've got some constructive criticism, don't be afraid to tell me.


End file.
